


Ascalon Rollick (and other such atrocities)

by brennivin



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: ?????????????, Crack Treated Seriously, Group Sex, Other, Size Difference, Voyeurism, the ascalon club is a polycule
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29201496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brennivin/pseuds/brennivin
Summary: Jonathan joins the Ascalon Club only to realise he has misjudged the purpose and nature of the vampiric secret society.Forget being normal this is the one that's gonna get me institutionalised.
Relationships: Ascalon Club - Relationship, Jonathan Reid/Lord Redgrave, Lord Redgrave/Fergal Bansha
Kudos: 6





	Ascalon Rollick (and other such atrocities)

Being invited to join some secretive elite club was one thing on its own, and it was another entirely when said club was supposedly run by a powerful and ancient vampire. Compared to them, Jonathan was only a newborn and certainly didn’t see how he was anything special. Why they wanted anything to do with him, he did not know.

Still, on Ashbury’s recommendation he made his way down to the mansion that turned out to be not far from his ancestral home. She was an older ekon than he was, and seemed to have her wits about her when it came to these sorts of affairs. If she suggested that this could be a useful choice, then it likely would be. The proximity of this place and the home in which he’d grown up certainly surprised him. He had lived only up the street from a secret society of powerful vampires and social elites and had been none-the-wiser in his years.

He sucked in a long breath, remembered he was doing this for a good reason and that people were counting on him, and gathered the courage required to actually enter the building’s front gates.

The door was almost palatial in appearance and the shutter that sat at head height quickly slid open almost immediately after he knocked. It seemed that somebody was stationed at the door awaiting his arrival. A pair of eyes was revealed, slightly bloodshot with scleras greyed and darkened by blood feasting. The person behind the door was obviously expecting him, and probably knew who he was already but still asked him to explain himself. More than anything, it was likely an aesthetic choice to be so needlessly standoffish. 

It could not be overstated how uncomfortable and nervous this whole affair made him feel.

After verifying his identity with the ekon behind the huge wooden door, he found that the shutter slid back shut quite abruptly, only for the door itself to swing open. For a moment he almost expected a loud, dark creak. He recognised how incredibly typical that would be - it was the kind of thing one would expect to read in a children’s story. Still, he hadn’t yet been given the time to figure out exactly which parts of those stories were true.

The inside of the mansion was about as lavish as he had anticipated. There was something dreadfully Etonian about the decor and furnishings. This was an elite boys’ club, he reminded himself. There were bodies strewn about - the bodies of Priwen footsoldiers, he noted. Blood was smeared around everywhere from the fine rug to the pillars that stretched upward into the high ceiling. Essentially any surface that could be reached by humanoid limbs was dirtied with at least some blood. Some of the furniture had been upset or even damaged. There had clearly been quite a terrible struggle here.

It didn’t surprise him that Priwen would want to raid such a place. This was exactly the kind of place that they would have in their sights, and the Guard had likely uncovered all kinds of terrible atrocities that had happened within these halls. If the rumours were true, and the Ascalon club were as powerful and influential as they seemed, Jonathan would likely be watching them very closely as well if he weren’t so often preoccupied with his work during this epidemic.

And yet somehow, despite the clear state of post-violence, the place still looked strikingly lavish and luxurious through it all. In spots there were no blood splatters, everything gleamed and shimmered with rich colour and craftsmanship.

He was led up a broad, elaborate staircase with bannisters that were carefully polished. These times had almost caused him to forget the finer things. Not only had he been at war in the trenches only recently, where luxury had never felt so far away, but now he was surrounded on a daily basis by stark white hospital walls and withering sickly patients. That is, when he wasn’t out in the dimly lit and filthy streets of London which were crawling with all manner of terrible creatures. He allowed himself to enjoy the environment he’d found himself in despite the state of disarray everything was in. It certainly was a relief to be somewhere so beautiful when things had recently become so bleak.

As he was led through a heavy, secretive curtain Jonathan found himself in a relatively small closed-off area filled with finely dressed gentlemen. It seemed he was mostly in the company of other vampires. They were scattered around having various conversations, and it was likely that the few humans here were either vying for a chance at immortality or woefully awaiting their demise at the hands of their keepers.

Lord Redgrave certainly had a striking look to him. The clothes he wore were regal to an almost offensive degree considering the current state of London, but he supposed the vampire was so removed from reality that this probably didn’t even register in his mind. His face was somewhat aged, though he didn’t look nearly as old as he was rumoured to be. The lines on his face were shallow, and thanks to his condition his pallor was less of a burden to his appearance and more ethereal. Many ekons seemed to sport such an uncanny complexion, which teetered on the very edge of the greyed appearance of the not-so-freshly dead. His eyes were piercing. It felt as if he were analysing every inch of Jonathan’s form and it was near impossible to decipher his intentions.

“Jonathan Reid. I’m glad to see that you’ve responded to my invitation.” He gestured with a certain pleasantry which blatantly betrayed his age. “I simply couldn’t take the rejection, you know.”

“It’s an honour, Lord Redgrave. Your club is held to high esteem, and I’ve been made aware that few are given such a privilege as to receive an invite.”

He seemed to like what Jonathan had said, in some vague unreadable way. It was difficult to tell exactly what level of formality he preferred.

The conversation between them quickly shifted towards an explanation of the club and its purpose, along with its interest in Jonathan. Redgrave clarified that there was something intriguing about Jonathan and that it was believed his maker was some ancient noble vampire. It was certainly an interesting theory. It was closer to an explanation than any possible idea he had conjured of his maker’s identity. He’d been turned abruptly and without guidance, and his sire’s communications had been cryptic at best, and vaguely tormentative at their worst.

When Redgrave extended an offer for Jonathan to become a member, it certainly surprised him. After what had happened to Fergal Bansha, whom he had without hesitation left for dead in a sewer, it was not what he had expected.

“You're inviting me to join? I’ve not long ago been responsible for the death of one of your own members, Fergal Bansha.” He couldn’t hide his confusion.

Redgrave’s mouth cracked into the slightest of smiles, fainter even than that of the Mona Lisa. “Dr. Reid, you truly needn’t worry about Fergal. I assure you that he’s not dead. I take very good care of my own.”

He felt as if a rug had been pulled out from under him, and when he heard the curtain roll back he turned his head to see the vulkod in question standing tall over him. It felt as if his partially dead heart had made an attempt at escaping his chest cavity. He certainly hadn’t fabricated any expectations prior to his arrival, but this certainly was far from what he’d considered a possibility.

“He’s alive?” He couldn’t help but exclaim out loud, gazing up at him in wonder at his relatively unhurt condition. “I must admit, Sir Redgrave, you’ve certainly surprised me.”

“Of course, Dr. Reid.” Redgrave continued. “You see, I didn’t send him after you for no reason at all. Think of that encounter as something of a test. I wanted to be certain that you were as powerful as I believed. I’m pleased to say, young ekon, that you’ve far exceeded my expectations. Fergal here was more than happy to help me with this little test, as he’s got a certain penchant for a thrilling fight. Rarely does he find a worthy opponent.”

There was such a casual indifference in his tone that Jonathan felt almost offended. He’d sent his pet vulkod to assault Jonathan in the night, purely as some test of his abilities. He really felt as if Redgrave was treating him similarly to a child. It could be argued, of course, that Jonathan was indeed a child in Redgrave’s perception. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the bite of embarrassment at this revelation.

“A test. I see.” He said with an air of flat bitterness.

Redgrave’s brow twitched slightly, and it felt as if Jonathan had struck a nerve. The ancient ekon had likely not been met with such honest - though only slight - disdain in many years. “I hope I’ve not offended you, Jonathan - if I may call you such.”

“Yes, that’s quite alright.” 

It felt almost as if agreeing to a first name basis were some form of atonement for misspeaking. 

He cleared his throat. “My intention is not to offend you. Far from it. I wanted to marvel at your strength; I’m impressed by you.”

Now, it wasn’t as if Jonathan was a stranger to praise. He was a surgeon of astounding reputation, so many a man had approached him to tell him just how impressed they were with him. However, it was also not often that he was approached by somebody nearly as prestigious as Redgrave. He liked to think that he wasn’t so swayed by a person’s social status and class, but he had admittedly grown up a West End boy. It was hard to resist the draw of a person’s power and status, particularly in this case thanks to his unfamiliarity with vampire politics. He felt a subconscious urge to cling to whatever he could in this new and unfamiliar place.

“Having my dear Fergal rescued and resuscitated was not an easy task, but I want you to know we all respect your victory as fair. You passed our little examination with flying colours, as I expected.” He further explained.

Fergal nodded and crossed his huge arms over his chest. “You won fair and square, Reid. It was the most fun I’ve had in years, when it comes to fighting at least.”

“I’m flattered.” Jonathan quickly replied. “I understand now, I think. In fact, I can understand why you’d want to test me. It’s probably not easy to trust outsiders considering the nature of your organisation - not to mention the current state of affairs.”

Joining the Ascalon club could be dangerous. He had no clue what they might have in store for him. On the other hand, he could use his position as a member to access information and resources. Jonathan certainly could use all the help he could get. The ends might justify the means, he reminded himself. 

“I accept your offer. I’m honoured that you’d consider me for a position within your esteemed club.”

Redgrave held out a hand and Jonathan accepted it coyly. His palm was very cold, and his fingers wrapped around Jonathan’s with a certain possessiveness as if in jubilation for having gotten what he wanted. It felt as if he intended not to let go, in the strangest of ways. It also felt as if he were suddenly pulling back the veneer of aristocracy and embracing him in a way that could be described as almost  _ intimate. _

He had him sign the membership contract in his own blood, which was not particularly surprising. It was the exact kind of ritual he had expected to see used in a vampiric secret society. Their obsession with blood was borderlining on fetishistic - a lot more so than what could be expected of the average immortal.

Once everything was signed and the rituals were completed he was certain that the initiation was over, but soon Redgrave gestured to Fergal and politely asked him to restrain Jonathan.

“I’m sorry, I don’t see how that’s necessary.” He blurted out, slightly panicked by the sight of the huge vulkod approaching him.

Redgrave smiled that uncanny slight smile again. “Jonathan, please don’t struggle. This is a necessary part of your initiation. I must show you how things are done around here. Do you not wish to reap the benefits of your newly appointed membership?”

He wasn’t sure what to think of that, but it seemed that the implication was that this was to be neither unpleasant nor optional. Quite a combination, indeed. 

Reid wasn’t exactly easily shocked, so whatever they had planned was unlikely to perturb him all that much. If he fought back or caused a fuss it would likely cause the others to distrust him, and he needed the club to be on his side. He needed to comply, and continue to stroke Redgrave’s ego as much as he was invited to.

And so Dr. Reid allowed Fergal to lift him and carry him to one of the room’s vacant armchairs. He was so absurdly large that it made Jonathan feel practically tiny in comparison, which wasn’t a feeling he often experienced. He’d always been complimented on his relatively tall and strong stature. His hand around Jonathan’s upper body wasn’t threatening or violent as it had been when they fought. This time his grip was something more akin to a protective and careful hold, as if he were carrying a small animal. He put Jonathan down on the seat and stood over him watchfully, holding him by the arms so he could barely move from his spot without a fight.

“I promise you this won’t be unenjoyable, Dr. Reid.” Redgrave explained, staring down at Jonathan. A flash of predatory power lit up behind his eyes. “We lance bearers know very well how to enjoy ourselves.”

He clambered into Jonathan’s lap, and it was such an unexpected move that it felt almost like some form of hallucination. It was hard to believe that this truly was happening, and that it wasn’t the product of some fever dream.

“I’ve watched you for a long time, Jonathan.” He calmly stated as he began to touch him intimately through his clothing, first holding his face tenderly with one hand and then sliding the other down his front. “I’ve watched you quite  _ closely _ .”

_ For how long? _

Though Jonathan wasn’t given much time to consider this slightly troubling question as he felt that cold, dextrous hand press firmly between his legs. His heart was pounding, his blood practically thrashing through his veins and he felt himself starting to fill out under the older man’s touch. He wasn’t exactly prudish when it came to sexual intimacy, but this context in particular was causing him to feel shy and perhaps even slightly anxious. There were far too many people in the room for this to hold the familiar comforts of any of his previous trysts.

The curtains were being tied shut and ekons were coming closer, ritualistically shedding their clothing and falling into each other’s arms in a display that felt less like a typical sexual romp and more like a worshipping of flesh - the type of worship that would lead one to speak in tongues. The energy in the room had shifted tremendously from one of upper class posturing and pleasantries to one of raw animalistic indulgence, and this had happened in a matter of seconds. As much as Jonathan wouldn’t like to admit so, it was oddly tantalising to be surrounded by so much lust and blood thirst. He was caught between the ravages of his moral disturbance at their selfishness and lack of consideration for the outside world, and his physical excitement brought on by his new condition as his desire to copulate and feast fought hard to overtake him. This was a layer to his vampiric condition he had yet to fully discover, and it was slightly frightening how overpowering it felt.

Fergal’s huge hands lifted his coat off of his body and soon he and Redgrave were undressing him piecemeal, which he allowed without protest. The Earl’s eyes were fixed on his face, watching him like those of a predatory beast in preparation to pounce. The vulkod’s huge hand cupped his face and he looked down to see he had been stripped down to his underclothes. Things were happening very quickly. Redgrave felt him through his underwear, palming and pawing and drawing reluctant yet frantic breaths out of him. 

He pulled Jonathan’s underwear down to his knees in one quick motion, exposing him to the room abruptly and freeing his erection. It was embarrassing how quickly he had gotten so aroused, though he couldn’t possibly be blamed for the situation he was in nor his unfamiliarity with the experience of lust as it occurred under the vampiric condition. That cold but possessive hand wrapped around the base and he laid his tongue flat along the underside, maintaining his watchful gaze on Jonathan’s face. 

Though his hands were cold to the touch, his tongue blossomed heat over the underside and then the head of his cock. It shook through his nervous system and Redgrave evidently felt emboldened by how flustered he became because he quickly wrapped his lips around the head and sucked him in, down to the hilt and with seemingly very little effort.

Jonathan couldn’t help the moan that burst from behind his lips as he felt the tip brush over the back of Redgrave’s throat and then those muscles closed tightly around it as he swallowed. There was no denying how good it felt, as much as he wanted to maintain a stoic demeanour. The older man was unbelievably good at this, masterfully tracing over his length with his tongue and sucking dutifully as he pulled back. His eyes were closed tightly in concentration as he once again took him all the way in, bobbing his head up and down just to hear more meek little murmurs of pleasure from Jonathan as he did. In fact, Jonathan’s moans were becoming breathy and frequent. His hips jolted upward to chase the feeling, forcing himself into Redgrave’s throat faster as this bizarre new type of frenzy started to really take hold. It was obvious how close he was getting already.

Wrapping his thumb and forefinger around the base and squeezing assertively, the Earl pulled off with a pop. His lips were left glazed wet by the young ekon’s pre-cum. It certainly was a sight to behold. The ekon’s face took on a certain quality in this context, and perhaps it was the overpowering vampiric lust clouding Jonathan’s mind but he looked strangely irresistible on his knees with his mouth filled so profanely.

The smell of blood was overwhelming. Several men in the room were biting and feeding from each other. The combination of being so close and having his senses filled so thoroughly with the enticing scent of fresh noble blood had Jonathan panting and whining and twitching. His eyes had darkened animalistically. Perhaps it was for the best that Fergal was still holding him down because he had no clue what he was capable of in this state.

“Not yet, Jonathan.” He looked up at him wickedly. “I have so much more to show you.”

Briefly, Redgrave made eye contact with Fergal. It was as if they were able to communicate telepathically, because he didn’t need to be given any instructions. The vulkod walked from his position behind Jonathan over to where Redgrave was kneeling. He dropped to his knees behind Redgrave and pulled down his trousers, licking the fingers of his large hand and reaching down to touch him. 

It was hard to believe what he was seeing. With very little effort Fergal was able to fit an entire finger inside of him. Due to Fergal’s impressive stature just one of his fingers was larger even than Jonathan’s cock. Still, with very little need for preparation he was rocking it in and out of the Earl who got back to work sucking off his new favourite lance bearer.

He pulled off for a second, putting two fingers into his mouth and sucking on them slowly. Then, he got back to it just as dutifully as he had before. Jonathan was melting into a puddle in his chair, mesmerised by the sight before him and overwhelmed with pleasure. He felt a pair of cold fingers tease between his legs and circle around his hole, and then they were sinking into him and moving with purpose. It didn’t take long for Redgrave to find the right angle, and he grinded the tips of his fingers in just the right place repeatedly until Reid was yet again approaching his limit. 

Fergal had picked up the pace, fingering into Redgrave so aggressively that he was pushing his face deeper into Jonathan’s lap with every push. There was nothing gentle or tender about this - they treated their sexual ministrations as if they were a sport, revelling in the mindless thrill of it while also in a sense showing off what they were capable of. Redgrave’s fingers pressed and pushed against Jonathan from the inside, over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

He instinctively put a hand on top of Redgrave’s head, and Fergal pushed another finger into the Earl with incredible ease. 

Swallowing again, Redgrave gave a low moan that was almost akin to a growl as his throat was filled with Jonathan’s release. He seemed determined to catch all of it, holding himself stubbornly in place between Jonathan’s legs so he could take it all in. It was as if Jonathan’s semen were a sacred ambrosia and the sheer hedonism of indulging in it seemed to compliment Fergal’s movements well because soon he was shuddering and spilling over into his own hands between the two of them.

His hair was slightly messy where Jonathan had been pawing at it in the throes of passion, and he looked almost dizzy as he sat back and took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands with. Though it didn’t show as much, it seemed that he too was heavily afflicted with the same frenzied lust.

“I suppose this is a sort of covenant between us?” Jonathan was breathless as he tried to make sense of what had just transpired.

Redgrave only smiled up at him devilishly. “Welcome to the Ascalon Club, lance bearer.”


End file.
